


Failure Schmailure

by Spikedluv



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Community: batpack, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley gets a visit from someone from his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Failure Schmailure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for batpack Feb/Mar Birthday Fanfic Challenge using the theme of: Blast from the past: Someone from your character’s past is back in their lives...to cause trouble? Or is their return a happy occasion?
> 
> Written: March 14, 2005

Wesley leaned over the counter, his weight resting on his elbows as his thumb absently stroked the page he was reading, so absorbed by the material that he didn’t hear the front door open. He realized that they had a potential client only when the sound of Cordelia’s excited voice broke through the single-minded attention he was giving to the treatise he’d recently discovered on Lama’r demons, a parasitic species said to burrow into the host’s brain through the eye socket and take over the host’s body. Sans the one eye, which seemed a tad wasteful for a parasite that should want its host whole, Wesley thought.

“Good evening, welcome to Angel Investigations! How may we help you?” Cordelia greeted the potential client.

Though Cordelia was no longer the carefree, selfish girl he’d first met when she was in high school—the visions having taught her a great deal of maturity and empathy—she was pragmatic enough to insist that they needed paying customers to keep AI running, as well as to keep her living in the manner to which she wished to become accustomed. The tone of her voice alone told Wesley that she thought this one might pay their bills for the next month.

Without lifting his head, Wesley gave the newcomer a cursory glance, then quickly returned to the book spread out on the counter, too interested in the reference he’d found to give them much notice until his participation was required. Cordelia was certainly capable of taking the preliminary information and making an assessment as to whether the client was in need of AI’s special brand of investigative services.

“I’m looking for Wesley Wyndham-Pryce,” the man replied, his haughty tone tinged with distaste.

That voice grated on Wesley’s nerves and sent a shiver of recognition along his spine, his head jerked up at the sound of his own name. Wesley’s eyes raked over the gentleman—he used that term loosely—darkening their doorstep, taking in more details this time. He wore an expensive suit that he’d obviously paid to have tailored to fit, and his wing-tipped shoes were shined to a reflective sheen.

He was Wesley’s age, but his dark hair was already starting to go gray. Combined with his pasty complexion, it wasn’t a good look on him. His features were bland, but pinched in a perpetual scowl that Wesley remembered all too well. Bartlett G. Winston, he remembered with a silent groan.

He and Wesley had been in the same year at the Watcher’s Academy, and since they were seated alphabetically in most of their classes, Wesley spent a lot of time familiarizing himself with a much younger-looking version of the man he was now faced with. Despite the fact that over ten years and a great deal of life experience now separated them, and himself from the person he’d been back then, Wesley’s hand still shook as he closed the book he was reading and prepared to face his past.

“Bartlett Winston,” he said, stepping out from behind the counter and drawing the other man’s attention to him.

“Pryce,” Winston sneered as he looked Wesley over, taking in his casual dress of blue jeans, maroon Henley with the sleeves pushed up, and scuffed brown boots. He shook his head, and then made a show of looking around the interior of the hotel, condescension obvious in his expression.

Cordelia glanced over at Wesley, frowning. Wesley shrugged, and waited for Winston to state the purpose of his visit.

“I was told you could help me,” Winston finally said, making it clear he didn’t believe it. His eyes came back to rest on Wesley. “From the looks of things, I’m not too sure about that. I’d heard you were slumming it since the Council let you go....”

“Hey!” Cordelia interjected, taking umbrage at Winston’s statement.

Winston gave Cordelia a dismissive once-over, and then turned a smug smile on Wesley. “But this is even worse than I’d been led to believe.”

Cordelia took a protective step towards Wesley, placing herself between the two men. “Listen up, Mister,” she snarled, ignoring the fact that Winston was doing his best to look through her as if she didn’t exist. Wesley almost smiled at the thought that Winston had never met the likes of Cordelia when she got her dander up. “You might want to remember that you’re the one coming to us for help.”

Wesley placed a hand on Cordelia’s shoulder, both to lend support and to hold her back in case Winston said something that set her off even more.

“Well, it’s not something the Council wanted to waste resources on, and they thought they’d throw you a bone,” he said to Wesley. “For old time’s sake.”

“I’ll give you a bone,” Cordelia muttered angrily as she tried to wiggle out of Wesley’s grasp.

“What’s going on?” Angel asked from above them.

Wesley’s eyes were automatically drawn to Angel, his presence filling the room as he glided down the stairs. He swallowed hard as he tried to hide his reaction to Angel, who was wearing Wesley’s favorite shirt—the blue silk that whispered over Angel’s skin when he moved.

“Angelus.” Winston’s eyebrows lowered in glower. He glared at Wesley. “No matter how far you’ve fallen from grace, I couldn’t believe you had aligned yourself with this abomination!” he hissed.

“All right, that’s it!” Cordelia broke free from Wesley’s hold.

“Cordelia.” Angel’s soft voice halted her, but Wesley could tell she wasn’t happy about it. Angel stared at Winston. “Who are you?”

Winston drew himself up. “Bartlett G. Winston.”

“Uh huh.” Angel turned to Cordelia. “Did anyone pick up blood? I’m _starving_.”

“I got some, it’s in the fridge. Unless....” She motioned towards Winston.

Winston drew a cross and held it out. “Stay back, demon!”

Angel raised an eyebrow at the raised cross. “I doubt he’d stay down,” he told Cordelia.

“Too bad,” she muttered just loud enough for Winston to hear.

“You feed this monster?” he asked in disgust.

“Only people who annoy us,” Cordelia replied.

“Cordelia, could you...?” Angel gave the refrigerator a meaningful look.

“Can’t I beat him up, instead?” she asked wistfully.

“Maybe later,” Angel promised, and Wesley nearly grinned. He might have if it wasn’t for the fact that this entire debacle only served to highlight his own failures in life.

Making her displeasure clear, Cordelia went to the back of the office to heat up a mug of blood for Angel, and Angel moved closer to Wesley. “Who’s he?” Angel asked, indicating Winston, who still held the cross out.

“He’s from the Watcher’s Council,” Wesley told him, as if that explained everything.

“Ahh.”

Perhaps it did, Wesley thought.

“They want you back?” Angel asked, and Wesley would have choked if his mouth wasn’t dry as the Sahara.

“No, I...don’t believe so,” he replied.

“Good. So, what _does_ he want?”

“He wants his ass kicked,” Cordelia grumbled behind them.

“Besides his ass kicked,” Angel clarified.

“It seems they need our help with something,” Wesley told him.

Their exchange had taken on a surreal quality. It was if they’d stepped out of time, leaving Winston and Cordelia behind while they conversed.

“Do we want to help him?”

“We _could_ use a paying customer,” Wesley reminded him.

“What do we need to do?” Angel took the mug Cordelia offered him.

“He hasn’t said yet,” she told him. “He’s been too busy insulting us.”

The three of them turned expectantly to Winston, who’s eyes were locked on Angel. Angel smiled, saluted him with the mug, and then drank. Winston blanched. The door slammed open behind him and Winston twirled, cross held out in front of him.

“Hey, what’s up?” Gunn asked as he jumped down the stairs. “Whoa.” He looked Winston over, and then looked at the three of them. “Friend of yours?”

“No,” they all replied.

“Okay.” He shrugged and walked around Winston. “We got anything on for tonight?”

“We might,” Cordelia replied. “If he’d start talking.”

The four of them turned to Winston, who made a show of straightening his jacket. “Just the small matter of a pack of Chuk’la demons migrating to the United States. Their ship is supposed to be docking in L.A. tonight.”

“Tonight? That doesn’t give us much time,” Gunn observed in disgust.

“What’s a Chukaluk demon?” Cordelia asked.

“Chuk’la,” Wesley automatically corrected as he searched his memory. “A particularly nasty bugger, if I recall correctly. Their common name....”

“Baby eaters,” Angel said.

“I was getting there,” Wesley began, then broke off his complaint to swallow nervously when he felt Angel’s fingers pressed against his lower back.

“How many are there?” Gunn asked.

“A pack is....,” Angel began.

“Thirteen,” Wesley finished smugly, refusing to look at Angel in case he couldn’t hold his serious expression. Angel’s fingers pressed more firmly into his back and Wesley wanted nothing more than to lean back into them, to turn into Angel’s arms and let his hands and mouth wash away unhappy memories of the past.

“How many men we got?” Gunn asked, looking at Winston expectantly. Winston lifted his chin, but didn’t answer. “You do have men willing to fight these things, right?”

“The Council’s not very big on getting its own hands dirty,” Wesley answered Gunn’s question.

“Oh, so you thought you’d pay someone else to do your dirty work,” Gunn scoffed.

Winston’s expression took on a guiltier hue.

“Wait just a minute here! You thought we’d do your dirty work for _free_?” In her anger, Cordelia’s voice had taken on a deep timber that Wesley knew meant trouble.

Before he could step in, Winston arrogantly replied, “Of course not. I have a voucher from the Council.”

Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Winston. “You’re kidding, right? A _voucher_? We take cash. Or you can kill your own pack of baby eating demons. Single-handedly.” She looked him over with an expression that clearly said he wouldn’t last long.

“Uh, Cordy,” Angel tried to get her attention.

“I don’t carry that much cash on me,” Winston replied.

“Fine.” Cordelia stomped over to the weapons cabinet, threw it open, and grabbed the first large axe she came to. She took a few steps towards Winston and tossed the axe to him. Winston made a clumsy attempt to catch the handle, but the axe clattered to the floor.

“That’s my axe!” Gunn protested, grabbing the axe up and checking it over for damage. “I can’t believe you were going to give him my axe!” he grumbled to Cordelia, and then crooned softly to the poorly treated axe.

“Uh, Cordy.”

“You know, maybe we should call the Council headquarters. You know, just make sure that Winston here is on the up and up.”

Winston flushed a deep crimson. “Of course I’m legitimate,” he said scornfully, but had been convinced to pull out his wallet. He withdrew a handful of bills. “How much do you charge?” He tried to make it sound as if it was shameful to take money for killing demons, but he didn’t realize that he was speaking to Cordelia Chase.

Cordelia snagged the money out of his hand and began counting it. “What do you say?” she asked the room at large. “Hundred dollars a demon?” She counted off thirteen bills and stuffed them into her pocket.

Winston held his hand out for the remaining cash, but Cordelia wasn’t done yet. She counted off a few more bills, then smiled at Winston as she stuffed them into her pocket as well. “That’s for insulting Wesley.” Then some more. “For insulting me.” A few more. “For insulting Angel.” Yet more. “For thinking that you could use us to do your dirty work.”

When she was done, Cordelia looked between Winston and the two bills left in her hand. “And this,” she said, “is for being a jerk.” She made a show of stuffing them into her already full pocket.

Winston slowly lowered his hand and then stuffed the empty wallet back into his pocket. “I take it you’re accepting the job,” he said snootily.

“Of course!” Cordelia replied, as if he were off his rocker to think otherwise. “We can’t let a pack of baby eating demons loose on our city, can we?”

“No way!” Gunn agreed with her.

“Absolutely not,” Angel said.

“Certainly not,” Wesley replied, enjoying the discomfited look on Winston’s face when he realized that they would, in fact, have done it for free if it were anyone else but him and the Council asking. Or if he’d had the foresight to ask a bit more nicely.

Winston stood even straighter, if that was possible. “I believe our business here is concluded,” he said.

“Not yet,” Angel said, stopping him from leaving. “What else can you tell us about this pack? Why are they coming to L.A.? Have other packs already arrived?”

“Overcrowding,” Winston replied, though it was easy to see that he’d rather be anywhere but there. “They’d been pretty much confined to a small, isolated region in South America that was nearly impossible to penetrate, so they were left alone. Rumor has it that there’s a food shortage....”

“Not enough babies?” Gunn asked, sounding a little sick.

Winston continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “And so they’ve decided to break out of their area of confinement. Three packs were sent out, we believe to scout for a good place to relocate. One was tracked making it’s way here.”

“Well, we certainly don’t want that,” Wesley said. “Why don’t we make sure they don’t think L.A.’s a good place to relocate?” he asked his friends.

“Weapons?” Gunn asked, hefting his axe.

“Weapons,” Angel agreed. “Though we might need more manpower first.” He turned to Winston. “Was there anything else?”

“Just let me know it’s been taken care of. I’m staying at the Hilton.”

“Of course you are,” Cordelia said, her sarcasm tinged with a hint of envy.

“Fine,” Angel said. “We’ll let you know.”

They waited until Winston had left, and then everyone turned to Wesley. “Right.” He rubbed his hands together. “We have until midnight. Gunn, why don’t you see if any of your friends are willing to help us out?”

“Kill some baby eatin’ demons? We’re there, my man.”

“Good. Cordelia, see what the Database says about Chuk’la demons. Specifically, how to kill them and anything we need to watch out for.”

“Like acidic blood or an extra appendage hidden beneath a flap of skin in their abdomen?” she asked sweetly, though none of them needed reminding of those two incidents.

“Precisely.”

“On it.” She started to move around the counter, then stopped and emptied her pockets. “Did you see how much we got paid?” She spread the bills out on the counter. “We have enough for this month’s rent, everybody can draw a paycheck this week, and there’s enough left over for a new pair of shoes!” She grinned excitedly, bouncing in place.

“Excellent,” Wesley said.

“Good job. Always knew you were more than just a pretty face,” Gunn praised.

“What they said,” Angel said.

“The safe, and then the computer,” Wesley reminded her, and then turned to Angel. “Angel and I will visit the Host, see if he’s heard anything about these Chuk’la demons, and then check with some of our informants.” He checked his watch. “We should probably meet back here no later than ten o’clock, so we have enough time to get armed and arrive at the docks before the ship shows up.” He looked at each one of his friends and co-workers once more. “Let’s go.”

Everyone separated. Cordelia headed for the safe in the office while Gunn hung his axe back up in the weapons chest.

“Ready?” Angel asked.

Wesley cleared his throat. “Uh, don’t you need to get your jacket?”

“Don’t I look all right?” Angel asked, placing his palm against the blue silk and rubbing it over his skin.

“You know you do,” Wesley replied, blushing slightly and glaring at Angel, who just grinned back and turned to get the jacket he’d dropped over the banister on his way down the stairs. “I’ve got my phone,” Wesley called to Cordelia as he followed Gunn to the front door.

“Okay!” she called back.

He and Angel watched Gunn get into his pickup and drive away before heading for Angel’s car. Angel stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his slacks as they walked.

“You’re not a failure, you know,” he said.

“Of course not,” Wesley replied, wishing he could get more conviction behind it. He couldn’t resist asking, “What made you...?”

“Every time you’re reminded of your past, you get this...melancholy expression. You brood worse than I do. And sometimes you have nightmares, talk in your sleep,” Angel admitted.

“Ahh.” Angel had never told him that. He’d wondered why he woke up some mornings wrapped more tightly in Angel’s arms than others.

They stopped beside the car.

“I don’t think I’m a failure, Angel, really I don’t,” Wesley assured him. “Most of the time, anyway. It’s just that...when I’m reminded of the past.... There’s just so much I wish I’d done _differently_ , but then I’m not sure if I’d have ended up here, so maybe things happened the way they did for a reason. Maybe I did it the only way I could.”

Angel leaned against the car, affecting a nonchalant pose that Wesley saw right through. “You’re happy here, right?”

Wesley stepped up to Angel and placed his hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Very happy.”

Angel nodded. “Good.”

Just as Wesley was going to suggest they go see the Host, Angel spoke again. “You, um, never slept with that guy, did you?”

“I...I.... What? Angel....”

“No, no, never mind.” Angel held his hands up. “It’s none of my business, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Angel.” Wesley grabbed Angel’s hands. “Of course you can ask, I just.... Well, I was a little shocked by the question, and more than a little disgusted, actually. What gave you the idea...?”

“The way he looked at you,” Angel told him.

“Like I was a bug that he wanted to step on?” Wesley asked.

“Like the one who got away,” Angel replied.

Wesley stared at Angel in disbelief. “He did not.”

“He did.”

“Did not.”

Angel just smirked and shrugged.

“He did?” Angel drew Wesley close and slipped his hands around Wesley’s ass. “That’s rather disturbing.”

“I know I was disturbed,” Angel admitted.

“Really?”

“Mmm.” Angel nuzzled Wesley’s neck, and Wesley tilted his head to allow Angel better access.

“Need some reassurance, do we?” Wesley managed to get out without whimpering as he brought his arms up, encircling Angel’s shoulder with one, while the other hand slipped beneath his jack to rub over the silk shirt.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Angel whispered against Wesley’s ear, and then nibbled on the lobe.

“I’d be happy to oblige, but you do realize we have demons to kill, right?” Wesley reminded him, slipping his fingers into Angel’s hair while he thumbed Angel’s nipple.

“I do. In fact, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

“You’re getting hard thinking about killing the demons?” Wesley teased as he went lax in Angel’s arms.

“I’m getting hard thinking about how long and hard I’m going to fuck you when we get home from killing the demons.” Angel growled and bit Wesley’s neck with blunt teeth.

“Ah, of course.” Wesley would deny until his dying day that his voice squeaked when Angel cupped him through his jeans. “Angel!” His voice was breathless already, but Angel nearly stole it away when he unzipped his jeans and reached inside. “Oh, god, Angel, we’re on a public street for heaven’s sake!”

“Want me to stop?” Angel already had him out and was stroking him.

“No,” he whimpered. “I mean, yes! Yes, of course I.... Oh, god, no, don’t stop!”

Angel had lowered his head and was sucking on Wesley’s neck while he expertly worked Wesley’s cock, pulling, squeezing, twisting his palm over the head, until Wesley was grunting and gasping.

“Angel, Angel, I’m....”

“Yeah, Wes, come for me,” Angel purred, and Wesley came.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Wesley panted against Angel’s neck where his face had landed when he sagged against his lover.

“Took your mind of that moron Winston, didn’t it?”

“Who?”

Angel grinned. “Come on, we’ve got informants to shake down and demons to kill.” He licked his hand, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped it off.

Wesley straightened and tucked his spent penis back into his jeans. “Don’t you want me to...?” He indicated Angel’s erection, nicely outlined beneath black trousers.

Angel smirked as he tossed the used cloth towards the trash can. “You will,” he replied, sending a shiver of anticipation along Wesley’s spine.

Wesley let Angel open the door for him. Just before he slid into the seat, he said, “I know I’m not a failure, Angel. And....” He shrugged. “I believe it most of the time.”

“And the rest of the time?” Angel rubbed Wesley’s shoulder.

Wesley gently placed his hand against Angel’s cheek. “You’re there to set me straight.”

“So to speak.”

“So to speak,” Wesley agreed, and they grinned at each other.

Wesley settled into the passenger seat and reached for the seat belt. He laughed as the car rocked when Angel jumped into the backseat and then into the driver’s seat. They grinned at each other again as Angel started the car.

Wesley _did_ know he wasn’t a failure—he was doing more to save the lives of innocents than he had ever done in all his years with the Watcher’s Council. And if he sometimes forgot, he had friends to remind him. He reached out and Angel took his hand, pressed it against his thigh and held on tight. He had no more time to dwell on the past, they had demons to kill so he could take his lover home and show him how much Wesley appreciated him.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to msgordo for the beta.


End file.
